under

at 7 o'clock the pressure will mount

and I'll take the liquid screwdriver

my favourite

and unwind in a pool of swash

and tosh and beguilement and effervescent regret

mash on the plate 

makes me think of the clouds in the sky

and the clouds in my dreams

and the shrouds on my dreams

and the dreams on my plate

and the fixtures

and the batteries in the toys

and the music not yet written

and the bills not yet paid

and the life not yet lived

and I take a bite

some respite

an interlude for the soggy soul

wretched from the walking and talking

and endless cajoling and drolling

I'm hungry but I can't eat

I'm in love but I can't love

I need a blister

but my hands are clean

I heed no one

and sit alone

here by the wall 

a bird flies outside

and I lose my balance

imagine that - sitting down

The bird is gone

and I stare back at my mash

and wonder where the time has gone

Reviews

[Kerry O'Connor]

This is quite stream of thought to find oneself swept up in... all in a plate of mash!
You are a master of pace and persistence.

[Robin]

I call this feeling the Shattering , where time is splintered and awareness and perspective glint within strange light . I've been there .

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

A slight and simple piece, that captures moments, it's a difficult feat indeed, well done, good read.